Porch Talk
by Gnomie897
Summary: Random ficlets, based on scenes between Sookie and Eric that stick with me.
1. Porch Talk

All characters - and some of the dialouge at the beginning and the end - belong to the creators of True Blood and Charlaine Harris. I'm just an innocent fan with an active imagination.

Enjoy ^^

* * *

"I'm still Bill's."

His eyes fall to the ring on her left hand and he concedes, "So you are." He holds himself back from adding "for now" to the end of that statement, as he knows it will upset the fickle human. He adjusts his stance and smirks down at her; he can feel her pulse pick up again. Bill's my ass, he thinks with his widening smirk.

"Why are you so adamant about hating me?" he asks, stepping back and resituating himself on the porch seats. He looks up at her and finds her expression surprised. "I can feel that you're attracted to me – that's to be expected – but you put on this front. Why do you feel you have to hate me?"

She doesn't sit next to him, instead she looks down at him while she can. "You never apologized."

It's not the reaction he was expecting, but he works with what he has. "For what?" he prompts. Her hands move to her hips and he knows he's said the wrong thing. Instead of moving to correct himself, he sits back and looks up to her, waiting for her to respond.

"Let's see, Eric," the way she spits his name at her makes him want to flinch, but that is a human response and he is above it. She holds up fingers to tick off her reasons, "I nearly died trying to find your maker, you tricked me into drinking your blood, and now you're here trying to seduce me just because my fiancé is missing."

He raises his eyebrows in amusement; her accent gets stronger in her anger. "I do apologize for putting you in harm's way from my own personal gain, but I think you of all people would understand why I felt it necessary to risk everything for…" He fumbles over his maker's name, pauses, then presses on. "As for trying to seduce you, I'm not going to apologize for doing what is in my nature." He flashes that smirk at her and feels her heart rate quicken from both anger and lust. _You can't say you don't enjoy it,_ he wants to add, but controls himself. "What I don't understand is why I would have to apologize for giving my blood to you. Bill has given you blood before, hasn't he?"

She glares at him – the look that never ceases to amuse yet intrigue him – before even thinking of an answer. "Of course he has," she finally tells him. "You saw him give me blood after the maenad attacked me. But that's different." He raises one eyebrow in questioning. "You wanted your blood in me so that I would be attracted to you, so I would want you more than I want Bill."

"Sookie, Sookie," he laughs, standing up so that he may look down at her. "You were attracted to me before you had my blood." She opens her mouth to protest but he presses on. "You feared me, but that doesn't mean you didn't find me attractive." He pauses to see if she will try to tell him off again. When she doesn't, he continues, "I wanted my blood in you so I could keep track of you. Bill's protection can only go so far, and you are a valuable asset in my Area.

"The point I'm trying to make is: When did Bill first give you his blood, Miss Stackhouse?" She opens her mouth to answer, rethinks, and then closes it again. "And if only a couple drops of my blood are responsible for the feelings you have towards me right now, then how do you think a healing amount of Bill's blood affects you?" She turns away from him, her eyes dark with thought as she crosses the porch and looks out over the cemetery. "Food for thought."

He allows her to pull away from him, knows that it is best to let her come to the conclusion he's reached already on her own.

"I love Bill," she says softly to no one in particular. If he weren't a vampire he would've thought he was just hearing things.

"I never said you didn't," he says, looking out at the woods instead of watching her. He can feel her eyes on him though, which makes him smirk slightly to himself. He waits for her eyes to leave him before turning back to her. "So… to have and to hold." He walks towards her, watching the emotions play across her face before she shuts down on him.

"To love and to cherish." _I can do those things, Sookie,_ he thinks as he looks into her eyes. _I can make you forget William Compton_. But he can't tell her that; it sickens him to even hear it in his own mind. It's weak. Disturbingly Human.

He continues passing her to the other side of the porch. "To… blah-blah-blah-blah-blah, until death do you part." He sinks his hands into his pockets and turns to her, "It doesn't bother you that you'll be the only one doing the dieing?" _It bothers me…_ He ignores that part of his mind completely as he waits for his answer.

"I'm not gonna talk about this with you."

Ah, but she is gonna talk to him. "Okay," he allows with an almost genuine smile. She may put on airs about hating him, but he knows that he is growing on her. It's only a matter of time.


	2. Office Talk

I couldn't shake that look that Eric was giving Sookie after the kiss, and that is what inspired this. It's kind of crappy, so bear with me; I just had to get it off my chest. If there are any mistakes, I apologize ,

I own none of the characters, none of the dialogue, I only own the descriptions and thought processes, and that is why it's a little out of character.

* * *

Eric can hear her coming long before she bursts through his office door. Despite his state of deep thought, he cannot fight the surge of excitement that always accompanies her arrival.

"She insisted," Pam tells him dryly. He can feel his progeny's distaste in every word, but it doesn't affect him. She can piss and moan all she wants, he had a plan and he was going to use it.

"She always does," he mumbles, nodding at her. It is a dismissal and Pam takes it as such. The door is closed and he has Sookie Stackhouse alone in his office. He is far too brooding to even recognize that this is what he has wanted since the first moment she walked into Fangtasia.

"What did you mean 'you're not gonna be around much longer'?" He rolls his eyes; she was anything if not polite.

"Don't pretend you care about me," he orders, looking up at her and admiring her with empty eyes. "This is about Bill. Deep down, you know you shouldn't trust him."

She looks at him with obvious annoyance in her face; maybe she had cared for him, if only a little. But he'll never know now, because he has changed the topic and she is set on that track. "Okay," she admits, which he isn't expecting. Perhaps some sense has been knocked into the girl. "Tell me why." He stands up and steps in front of her in two long strides, watching her take him in and then meet his gaze with her determined brown eyes.

"Here's the truth," he tells her, towering over her and rushing through his words. If he tells her about Bill, she will leave automatically on some vendetta. He can't have that, he needs her here; he needs to get through this goodbye so that he can die the true death satisfied with all that he's done. She is pivotal in that aspect; Bill can come later. "There are forces beyond even my control. If I meet the true death without having at least kissed you, Sookie Stackhouse, that will be my biggest regret." It is not what she wants to hear, but is what he needs to say. It is the most truthful thing he has said to anyone, and he watches her closely to make sure she hears him.

Her eyes shift from determined to confused, her mouth quirks downward for a second and then she asks, "Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye to me?"

"Because I am."

He doesn't wait, doesn't tiptoe around her feelings or her emotional draw to the bastard known as Bill Compton. He has been restraining himself for too long, resisting her pull on him ever since the beginning, and now he will have what he wants. Their lips meet and he feels her balk, pulling away.

_No,_ he thinks automatically, his hands shooting up to pull her closer; to hold her tighter. _Stop pulling away from me_. As if she can actually read his mind, her lips relax against his and her hands find his neck. Instead of pulling away, she is pulling herself into him, her lips moving against his just as hungrily as his move to hers. _You want this_, he tells her quietly as she gasps and kisses him again and again. He can feel it in his blood; she has been fighting this just as much as he has, denying herself just as he had denied himself.

Now they both let go of that, loosing each other in their lips. His hand grips at the back of her head, longing to thread his fingers through her hair. He has half a mind to pull out the damn pony tail that is restricting him from doing just that, but she pulls back before he can move.

"Okay, I get it!" she cries, her lips swollen from the kiss and her eyes still shot through with lust. He can't hear a word she is saying to him; his nostrils flare to catch her scent, his tongue rolls in his mouth to taste her again. He can't understand why she has brought this reaction out in him. He feels as if he has seen Valhalla, tasted wine from Freyja's own goblet, and he wants more. He needs more.

_This was supposed to be goodbye_, he thinks vaguely before her last words catch him. "Why can't I trust Bill?" His mouth is open; Odin himself could not keep Eric from telling her anything she wanted to know. Odin can't, but Pam manages to just by entering the room.

With her eyes flashing between the two of them, he can sense she has something to tell him and it is something that cannot be said in front of Sookie. "What?" he questions, unable to tear his eyes from the woman in front of him. Simply her fae blood could not explain the pull she has on him now. What was she to him?

"Blah, blah, vampire emergency, blah." Pam's deadpan and arched eyebrow break his concentration and he looks to his progeny with a sigh. One last glance at Sookie and then he follows Pam out of the room.

Sookie deflates the second the door is closed, falling into the chair he was sitting in when she had entered. "Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea," she murmurs under her breath, shutting her eyes and willing herself to breathe evenly again.

Her whole body is tingling with the after effects of the kiss, and she can't even think to claim that those few drops of Eric's blood were the cause of her actions. No, she had liked that far too much. And her libido liked it even more. Bill's kisses had nev-

She lets out a loud whoosh of air, bringing her hands up to her face as she tries to think rationally through the haze of lust that Eric's lips had elicited. She had come for answers and he had distracted her with more questions. Why would he not tell her why Bill was untrustworthy? Why was he trying to say goodbye to her? Why did she care that he was saying goodbye? Why did she kiss him back?

_You have feelings for him. _"Shit," she curses again, stomping her foot against the stone floor of his office. She can't think straight here; his smell was all over this room, that ocean smell that somehow clung to everything around him. She needs to get out of there. She needs to see Bill.

She needs some goddamn answers is what she needs.

Resigning herself she jumps up from the chair, prepared to storm out into the bar and demand that he tells her what she came for. Screw Pam; screw Eric's self-serving agenda; screw her stupid attraction to the vampire; screw it all!

She gets to the door, tries to turn the doorknob and is met with the resistance of a lock. "Motherfu…" She mumbles, banging on the door. "Eric Northman, you let me out of here right now!" After a moment or two of banging, she gives up. Her shoulders slump, her breath blows out past her lips, and she sits right back down.

_Son of a bitch._


	3. Table Thoughts

Maybe it's because the King's bite was so vicious, or maybe it's because she's already gone into shock, but when Eric's fangs sink into Sookie's neck it feels like a gentle nip. Much like the ones Bill would take during sex.

Bill…

The asshole of a boyfriend – _ex_boyfriend sits across the table from where she is being drained, _watching_. There is a pained expression on his face and his eyes convey every ounce of sympathy, as if that is supposed to comfort her. To think that this was the man that she had wanted to marry. God, she hated herself for even thinking that she loved him. When she got out of this – and she _would_ get out of this – it would be a chore to keep herself from staking the son of a bitch herself.

Her vengeful thoughts are interrupted by the realization of a hand brushing her forehead. At first it reminds her of the way Gran would brush her hair from her face before tucking her in for the night. But Gran's hand was always warm. This hand, though it holds the same comfort that Gran's held, is freezing.

Eric…

Though he is drinking deeply from her neck, his hand is stroking her head slowly. _Calm down_, it says. _Trust me_. In her slowing mind, Sookie finds that she really does trust him. It's insane and suicidal, but she can't imagine trusting anyone more than Eric in that moment. He is going to make sure that she lives.

When his fangs leave her neck, she feels his lips brush against the wound slowly and deliberately. _Trust me._

OK, Eric, she thinks slowly. Her head is heavy and she can't feel her body, but the thought rings clear as she lets her eyes close. OK.

He is scared; Odin shame him, but his is terrified. A thousand years have passed since he last felt terror so encompassing as that which grips his unbeating heart now. The king is looking at him expectantly so he forces on that smile that he knows is too bright, too carefree.

"You'll be able to watch through the security cameras," he tells the monarch calmly. There is no trace of his fear in his voice, simply a blank excitement that he reflects off of the child-like king in front of him. "I'll see you soon." He lets his fingers brush against Sookie's neck – his bite mark – as his final goodbye before speeding towards the front door. He can feel his child's terror, her pain, and it rests like a knife in his chest. He knows what she will feel, knows exactly how it will hurt when he finally burns to ash, and he hates the idea that his child will suffer as he had. More than anything he wants to deny her that sickening experience.

But he has a plan and he has to stick to it. It will work.

It _will_ work, he thinks to himself as he steps out into the sun.


End file.
